


like everything i lost came back to me

by grootmorning



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Frank Castle has a coping mechanism that is taken away from him, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Karen Page is caught in the crossfire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grootmorning/pseuds/grootmorning
Summary: Frank Castle has been keeping Maria's old number since the accident. He absolutely refuses to let the line get cancelled. With it, it almost seems like he's talking to her again. But one day, the line gets transferred to Karen Page.





	like everything i lost came back to me

**Author's Note:**

> the title was inspired by poetry i saw on tumblr @ fuckyeahlovepoetry and the plot was inspired by the new social media aus on twitter

Frank kicked the door shut behind him, barely paying attention as it closed with a soft thud. His bag was thrown onto the small side table by the couch. The coat was flung over the back of the couch. 

With a fresh cold beer from the fridge and the microwaved dinner that he had had at his desk sitting uncomfortably in his stomach, Frank fell onto the couch, kicking his boots up onto the coffee table. He sighed, taking a sip. After a brief moment of relaxation, Frank slowly sat up, putting his boots back down onto the floor. Force of habit, really.

Maria hated his boots up on the table. 

He could almost hear her voice, like she was right next to him.  _Frank, don't do that. We don't know what you've walked in today._

Sighing, Frank reached into his pocket, pulling his phone out. He tapped on it until it unlocked, and showed him the screen with his text recipients. 

As he had done so many times before, he scrolled until he found Maria's name. His thumb hovered by the profile picture that she had just changed a few days before the apocal - accident had taken place. The four of them on a day trip out to Liberty Island, pretending to be tourists and simply having fun on one of Frank's rare day offs. Lisa had a pink ribbon in her hair. Frank Jr. had clutched Frank's arm tightly when boarding the ferry. And Maria, Maria, she had worn her favourite blouse. The one that Frank had picked out for her.

The one that she was wearing when the pick up truck had plowed into his family at a crosswalk.

Taking a large gulp of his beer now to distract himself from the beginnings of a headache, Frank then set it down as he tapped on her contact.

The screen cleared, showing previous texts. They were all blue.

And just like before, Frank wiped his hands on his slacks, before reaching to type slowly, his fingers pressing just that little bit too hard onto the screen.

 **Frank (10:12pm):** Missed you today

 **Frank (10:13pm):** Curtis told a joke that I thought you might laugh at. 

 **Frank (10:15pm):** You definitely would have laughed at it.

Locking his phone, Frank grabbed his beer for another large slug of it, slumping down. He leaned his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes. And waited for sleep and exhaustion to take over.

-

The first time he'd texted his deceased wife, it was in the middle of December. Christmas spirit was just everywhere in a city mad with gift giving, Santa Clauses on every street corner and snow every other week. As much as he tried to avoid it, Frank still had to return to the apartment to shower and rest before going to work.

The cold loneliness and deafening silence was almost too much to bear.

Fresh from the grief, Frank had drunk himself into a stupor that day. A Saturday, he vaguely remembered. He'd thought of Lisa begging them to go ice skating in Rockefeller Center, or of Frank Jr. asking for the newest toy. The more he thought about it, the more he drank.

Almost five months had passed since the accident and he was still not close to closing the chapter on his grief. How could he? In a split second, he had lost his entire family. He should have been there. He shouldn't had agreed to working a little overtime to close the issue his boss had asked him to. Maria wouldn't have been taking the children to dinner, where he was supposed to meet them. He would have sensed the pick up truck and the drunk driver and avoided him somehow. It never occurred to him that he wouldn't have known either, but Frank knew he would have - could have done something.

Or he should have died with them.

Now, he would have to live with it.

His phone buzzed but he had ignored it. Lying on the floor an hour later, Frank had fumbled for it, tapping at it with numb fingers until it cleared to showed that Curtis had tried to call through a few times. 

His vision blurred for a bit before refocusing and he blinked, hard. Not knowing why he did it, and until this day he hadn't figured out why, Frank found the text app and opened his text exchanges with Maria.

 **Maria (8:01pm):** Take your time. We'll see you at the restaurant honey. Don't mind us if we order first, the kids are hungry.

Brushing his fingers over the words that were the last his wife ever exchanged with him, Frank pulled up the keyboard.

 **Frank (1:43am):** I miss you so fuckin much

Dropping his phone back to the floor, Frank rolled over and let the haze claim him.

He'd barely remembered doing so the next morning, with only a slight memory of talking to Maria lurking at the back of his mind. He had brushed it off, attributed it to the faint hangover that was muddling his thoughts. It wasn't until a few hours later when he had to check on something with a colleague that he realised Maria's conversation showed as recent. 

Looking at it again was like a punch in the gut. The date difference between her last text and his drunk text the night before was glaringly obvious and he had to close the app, with his heart feeling like it was going to leap out of his chest, the way it was beating. After another moment or two, he opened it again, slowly, before sending another text, breathing hard the entire time.

 **Frank (12:55pm):** Your gross hangover cure would be very helpful right about now.

Hitting the send button and hearing that little whoosh made Frank feel better somehow. It felt like he was still connecting with her on some level, for whatever reason. Like the memory of her and his kids weren't gone. 

Frank knew it wasn't. The grief counsellor had repeated it countless times. As long as someone remembered them, they wouldn't be gone. But this felt tangible to him. Like he was doing something to preserve it. More than the photographs lying around the house. More than the belongings that he still hadn't brought himself to pick up or pack away. 

Curtis would tell him that this was a coping mechanism. That this was a way for him to deal with losing his entire family in a tragic accident, and coming to terms with it slowly. 

As long as it made him feel like he didn't want to set the world on fire, and burn himself along with it, Frank was going to do it.

Before he knew it, he was sending texts on holidays, on birthdays, on anniversaries, with little things that he noticed or thought they might like. Frank found himself smiling one day, watching a young girl busk for the first time in a park, taking his phone out on reflex to text Maria that Lisa would have loved doing that.

It was only later back in the partment that the thought struck him that Lisa would never be old enough to do so, that he felt the deep anger and grief in his heart.

For the next few months, he swung back and forth between grief and normalcy. Friends came and went, making sure that he ate, he was taking care of himself, he wasn't working too hard.

"It will be okay, someday," Curtis said quietly, with a soft hand on his shoulder. 

Frank scrubbed at his face with his hands, staring blankly at the floor. 

"Time heals all wounds. Just call me whenever you need me."

Frank wasn't sure if he nodded or made a sound, but Curtis seemed to take it that he agreed and left him be in his living room.

He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket lethargically and tapped out a text.

 **Frank (9:12pm):** Will I see you and the kids again?

He wasn't sure if he believed in an afterlife, but he would believe in whatever it took.

As long as it meant that he might see them again someday.

-

His boss had practically shoved him out the door. "Your schedule has been cleared for the next few days. Take the days and take a break. You look like shit, Castle."

"Commander Hill, I - "

"I don't want to hear another peep out of you. If it were any other day, you'd kick my ass. But now, somehow, on my own girlie strength, I'm pushing you out the door like a sack of potatoes. Get out of here."

"But - "

Her eyes flashed, and with a lot of difficulty, Frank bit back the words that he was going to retort and retreated. 

With all due respect to her, he wanted to work. Work was the only thing that could numb the pain of their death anniversary. Work and a bottle of vodka, maybe. But left without any other option, Frank returned home. He'd considered wandering around the streets or going to sit in the park, but the idea didn't appeal to him for more than a few minutes, and so he went home.

It was odd being home in the middle of the day, not hearing the kids' excited laughter or Maria moving from room to room, busy with chores or something else. 

Yes, he knew that it was a year ago.

No, he didn't know what the acceptable period for mourning was. 

Frank didn't know what to do with himself. Between pouring himself into his work and the occasional catch ups with Curtis who wanted to make sure that he wasn't drowning himself, Frank hadn't left much free time for himself to laze around.

Because lazing around meant idle hands and idle thoughts. Idle thoughts were likely to turn towards those of his family. That hurt, no matter what. 

His file bag was tossed onto the kitchen counter. Taking a cold bottle of water from the fridge, he pressed it to his brow, rolling it a little to cool himself down. 

What was he supposed to do with himself for three days?

A round of unnecessary laundry and a shower later, Frank stuck his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, surveying his apartment. He said his now, instead of ours. He had caught himself saying it more often, like the idea that it was just his was finally settling in his brain.

The initial realisation had terrified him. Down to his bones. Maybe his brain was beginning to accept that they were really gone, but his heart wasn't ready to let them go. Not yet. Not so soon.

Shaking himself out of it, Frank padded over to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a simple meal. There wasn't much in the pantry, but he managed to cobble together some pasta with an easy sauce. Comfort food for what was turning out to be a shit day. 

It settled his stomach and stopped it from roiling a little bit. His thumb traced a small carving that Frank Jr. had made into the table one time when he was bored with his homework. He remembered helping his children with his homework at this table. He remembered a lot of things.

Outside had fallen dark by the time Frank was able to pull himself out of his thoughts. Sleep would be his escape now. Taking his phone off the table, Frank sighed as he realised that the last time he texted Maria had been a month or so ago. He tapped out a quick text, promising his weary mind that he would go to bed after this.

 **Frank (8:30pm):** It's been a year and three days since and I still don't know how to move on from you, Maria.

He tapped the screen, bringing up the picture of their family again, thumbing over it briefly before returning to the text screen. Frank took another moment to stare at the text he'd just sent before making to turn the screen off.

But when the grey dots signalling that someone was typing a reply showed up, his heart nearly stopped. 

This could not be possible.

He could hear his own pulse, strong as it was. His heart was almost beating out of his chest with panic and sick fear. It didn't make sense, but there was a small kernel of anticipation in his gut that he fought to keep down. None of it made sense.

Striding into their bedroom, Frank yanked open the drawer next to his bed, nearly pulling it off its hinges. His brain almost couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. Maria's phone slid against the rest of the contents, rattled by the force of Frank's actions. It was still there. It was there. Nobody was using it.

How was this happening?

His phone buzzed in his hand, indicating that whoever was on the other line had sent the text, and he nearly dropped the phone. Catching himself at the last minute, Frank brought the phone up again.

Shaking, Frank unlocked the screen with cold fingers.

 **Maria (8:34pm):** I think you have the wrong number. 

Frank felt everything grind to a halt around him. Sound faded away and the only thing he could hear was the blood roaring through his ears as he struggled to breathe. His connection to Maria ...

 **Maria (8:35pm):** This isn't Maria.My name is Karen. 

This time, Frank really did drop his phone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't had a kastle ongoing for awhile so i guess this is happening. hit me up or let me know what you think!
> 
> tumblr: [here](http://ltfrankcastle.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [here](http://twitter.com/ltfrankcastie)


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